Today, in honor of Mother’s Day, I was. A mother that is. As a reminder for years to come I have made a list for myself.
Honey Don’ts (talking to myself. aLOUD):
He did, however, make his own sandwich.
And in spite of the slumber party for himself…the lunch for my mother and sisters…the Friday night school activity capping our event fatigue…the making of the birthday cake, bridal shower invitations, and pretzel “gazebo”… and the burying of our dog’s ashes… in spite of….no, because of these familial responsibilities I feel gratefully parametered, as a mother, a daughter and a sister to mothers.
To put a finer point on it I turn to Along-for-the-Ride Heidi and a laundry list of fine wordables she gifted me. A series of transformatively good words, positively put: evitable, wieldy, exorable, gainly, and corrigible. They are unexpected without their typical in-and-un escorts. And strong. Surprisingly fresh.
The joy of motherhood was magnified for me today. 500%. Five words for five boys times 100%. They were, unquestionably, evitable (yes, what would I do without them?), wieldy (yes, Miss Lisa, whatever you say, Miss Lisa) , exorable (it’s a good age, nine, so much less coersion needed.), gainly (gorgeous is more like it, whew), and corrigible (I will always be your mother. Be afraid. Be very afraid). Today I was in love with being a mother. Inexorably.
My Mother’s Day card read, “Roses are red vilest are blue I do like you.” He did, however, make his own sandwich. Next year perhaps he will make one for me. And perhaps I will buy him some pajama pants that fit.